


What if I Said I Wanted You Here?

by atreeintheforest



Series: Fairgame One-Shots [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Protective Qrow Branwen, They just care about each other, confession of feelings, like a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atreeintheforest/pseuds/atreeintheforest
Summary: People can mean many things to each other, even if they don't know it. Clover means more to Qrow than the other man knows, and gods help him if he lets any harm comes to the younger man. Causes any harm to come to the younger man. Is he just a liability?Or: Clover needs to stop relying on his semblance, and Qrow feels as though it's his fault.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Fairgame One-Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107572
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	What if I Said I Wanted You Here?

_It was a simple mission. Find the blind worms, and clear them out of this part of the cavern. They’d had no trouble completing the first part, as the grimm shot quickly from the ground and walls almost immediately._

_Clover had hooked Kingfisher’s line around the metal rod that was supporting that section of the cavern. He ran towards it and retracted the line, using the momentum to launch himself into the air._

_“Clover, look out!”_

_The wall beside it collapsed, pulling the metal rod down, and Clover with it. The younger man slammed into the ground, the air knocked out of his lungs and body feeling as though it were set on fire._

_“Ah, fuck--” he’d cried, sputtering off into a lengthy cough._

___________________________________________________________________________________

Qrow shook the scene from his head. It was his fault. His semblance’s fault. 

He could hear Clover already jumping to convince him otherwise, as though the younger man lived in his head. That’s how it had been for a while now. Clover’s gentle smiles were always on his mind. The way he’d chuckle at just about anything Qrow said, the soft lines around his eyes, the touch of worn leather gloves when he’d caught him from falling. Maybe Clover really did live in his head.

Folding the thought away in his mind, Qrow realized he’d made it to Clover’s apartment. He’d offered to bring lunch over from a nearby takeout place, one Clover had mentioned off hand was his favourite. To make up for what he had caused.

_“I should’ve noticed,”_ he heard the younger man in his mind say.

_I shouldn’t have been there,_ he thought in return.

He knocked on the door.

___________________________________________________________________________

Clover answered the door in a pair of Atlas issue sweats and a plain tank top. Bruising had begun to paint his shoulder and chest in deep purples and blacks. He leaned gingerly on the doorframe, smiling softly at the huntsman.

“Hey, Clover,” Qrow said gently, as though if he spoke too forcefully, the man would blow away.

“Hey, Qrow,” came the reply, “thanks for bringing lunch.”  
  
“Yeah, of course.”  
  
As Qrow set the takeout containers on the kitchen table, Clover began to fetch plates from one of the cabinets.

“No, let me do that,” the huntsman said as he rushed to grab the plates from the younger man’s hands.

“Qrow,” he chuckled, “I’m not dying. It looks worse than it is, I pro--” he was cut off by a sharp pain, and grasped his chest. 

“Cloves,” he sighed under his breath and grabbed the plates from his hands, reaching over to place them on the table before sliding an arm around the other man and helping him over to the chair.

“Alright, maybe it’s bad,” he admitted sheepishly, wincing as he sat into the chair.

The sight struck Qrow in the chest like a bullet. Clover bent over the table, head hunched down as he gasped painfully to catch his breath after the pain that had seared through him. The realization that he could lose the man to some accident caused by his semblance at any moment made his heart ache, and he frowned.

Clover looked up, and asked,

“Are you alright, Qrow?”

An unconvincing “yeah,” came as the reply. The huntsman turned to look out the window beside them. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this. If I hadn’t been th-”

“Stop,” Clover cut him off. “I thought we went over this. It would’ve happened whether or not you were there. I need to be more careful relying on my own semblance.”

“Yeah, because of me,” he breathed, just barely a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“Because of me,” the reply came a little stronger this time. “You have to be more careful about relying on your semblance because mine might counteract yours.”

“Qrow, please don’t blame yourself. With my aura, I’ll be right and ready to be back on the field in about a week. It’s really nothing to worry about.”

_Shit. His aura’s low. Of course it is._

Qrow hummed in response, and frowned again.

_I shouldn’t be here. Not when he’s like this. Not when he can’t shield himself from my misfortune._

“I think I should go,” came the gravelly voice, as the older man began to stand up.

“Qrow, wait,” Clover reached out, wincing again as the muscles in his bruised shoulder stretched.

“You take care of yourself,” he whispered, “get some rest. You don’t need me around here to bug you.”

The door closed behind him.

___________________________________________________________________________

Just as Clover had predicted, he’d taken about a week to recover enough to go on missions again. What he didn’t know was that Qrow had taken the time to discuss the incident with James, and wanted to ensure Clover wasn’t going to be in any harm while on his next few missions.

So there they were, on a routine grimm patrol around the south border of Mantle. Qrow lingered behind a few steps, turning every so often to look behind them warily. 

_What’s got him so on edge?_

After a while, the younger man slowed his steps to fall in line with him.

“Qrow, is there a reason for the particularly slow pace?” he asked, glancing over at the older man.

“Just…” he lingered on the word, “keeping an eye out.”

“Is this about last week?” he put a hand on the man’s shoulder, feeling him tense under the touch. “Qrow, I will remind you as many times as I need too. It’s not your fault.”

They stopped, and Qrow sank down against the barrier wall. He looked down at his feet, and then up and away from Clover. He looked small against the dark metal, legs curled up to his chest.

“But it is. You heard me the first time,” he sighed. “The only reason you need to watch how you’re using your semblance is because _I’m_ here to displace it.”

_No it's not. Please, just believe me Qrow. I don’t blame you for this._

“I would’ve needed to work on it anyways. The General has been on my back about it since long before you came around,” he replied.

He sunk down in front of Qrow, sitting gently on the soft snow. 

“Can…” he looked away, “can we talk about what happened at my place?” He brought his eyes back up to meet Qrow’s. “Why did you leave?”

He saw the way fear lingered in the huntsman’s eyes, even as they sat together now. The way his brow was knit into a seemingly endless frown that trickled down through the rest of his face, and he fidgeted softly with the rings on his fingers.

“I… I didn’t want anything to happen. With your aura being low, my semblance would’ve been the more prominent of the two, and with the state you were in…” he trailed off.

_He... worries about me?_

Clover allowed himself to stare for a moment, taking in the way his expression had softened as he answered. He felt a soft flush creep into his cheeks, and hoped he could play it off as the cold.

“What if I said I-”

He was cut off as Qrow lunged from his place on the ground and reached out, pushing the younger man out of the way and across the tundra. Clover looked up behind him to see a Beowolf crashing down on the huntsman.

“ _Qrow!_ ” he yelled, drawing Kingfisher from his belt, sinking the hook into the Beowolf, and retracting it, pulling the grimm off the older man. With a flick of his arm, he slammed it into the wall beside him, and it shattered into a million specks of dust, blown away in the wind.

Clover ran to Qrow, grasping the older man as he fell to his knees beside him.

“I- you told me you weren't going to do this,” the huntsman coughed out with a frown. “You told me you were going to be more careful.”

He looked down, hunching over from the pain in his chest. Clover brought his hand away from Qrow’s, and touched his chest. His clothing was warm and sticky, and he lifted his hand to see blood beginning to stain his gloves, frowning. 

“Qrow, be careful. You’re bleeding.”

He looked back down at the huntsman and recoiled at the anger he saw as red eyes glared up at him. 

“Me? You idiot” he seethed. “ _You_ promised me _you_ were going to be more careful. I thought I told you not to turn your back around me,” his voice grew louder, “and to stop relying on your godsdammned luck to make everything oka-” he broke into another coughing fit.

Coughs wracked the huntsman’s body, and he pushed Clover back with a huff. He landed a few feet away, and looked up with glassy eyes.

“What does this have to do with my-”

“You can’t just go risking your life when you’re around me. James needs you up in Atlas, and your team-” he broke off into a cough again, hunching over further and wincing from the pain. “You’ve got your whole godsdammned life ahead of you,” he yelled, and his voice cracked, “don’t waste it making stupid mistakes. Especially not with me as a liability.”

“Qrow-”

“Just stop-”

“Qrow,” he yelled back, cutting the man off and meeting his gaze. His voice took on a gentler tone, as he asked “why do you care so much about what I’m doing?” 

“Because,” he coughed into his arms, and then looked back up, glassy pink eyes meeting Clover’s green ones. “Because I care about _you_ , you idiot.”

_He… He cares about me? Why?_

“You… Why?”

“You’re kind to me. You don’t care about my semblance. You understand what it’s like.” He sighed, “I’ve longed to meet someone like you for my whole life, the least I can do is care about you, even if you don’t feel the same.”

Clover sat for a moment, considering what he’d just heard. Qrow _cared_ about him. And he didn’t think Clover cared back. He shook his head and reached over, placing his arms around Qrow.

“I didn’t think you thought of me that way,” he sighed. “Honestly, I struggle with believing anyone cares about me that way.”

“How could they not?” Qrow looked up incredulously. “You’re… you’re perfect. Atlas’ golden boy.”

“Lots of people love the semblance, and don't bother to see the person,” came the reply. “And hey, you’re a world famous huntsman. You sure you don’t have fans who’d love to spend time with you, just dropping from the sky?” he joked gently, a small smile playing onto his lips.

“World famous _bad luck charm,_ ” he sighed. “No one deserves the misfortune of caring about me.”

“Qrow. You deserve to be cared about just as much as anyone else. Plenty of people care about you.” He paused. “I… care about you.” 

Silence.

_Shit. Did Qrow not mean it like that..._

Clover moved to pull away from the older man, but shaking arms held him still. 

“Thank you…” Qrow murmured into the younger man’s chest.

There was a softness in his voice, a quiet trust, and Clover relished in it. Relished in the fact that he was lucky enough for _Qrow Branwen_ to even pay attention to him, let alone care about him. The fact that, after a life of hardship and betrayal with every moment solidifying his distrust in others, he’d chosen to trust him.

Red eyes creased into a gentle smile.

“Hey, lucky charm, d’you think you might wanna call someone to pick us up? I’m kinda hurting here,” he chuckled, trailing off into a cough.

A flush crept onto his face.

“Oh, right.”


End file.
